Abnormal Circumstances
by cataclysmically starry-minded
Summary: Petunia reflects on her nephew, the one person she depises most in the world, and on the changes she noticed in him the days after he returned from his fourth year at Hogwarts. (Written in OotP plotline)


Abnormal Circumstances          

I don't own Harry Potter, nor am I receiving a profit off of this.

A/N: Another one of my weird one-shots…

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After living with a person for so long, you start to expect them to never change in personality and temperament. I must admit that I felt the same way about him, _her abnormal child. He was a quiet child, so unlike Dudley in many ways. He was curious, never wanted to be left in the dark, whereas my own son was much more concerned with himself. He did not complain at all; he knew the repercussions. I would order him around constantly. Of course, he would give me that sullen, exasperated look, but he almost never questioned my authority. He wasn't quick to explode in anger, again unlike Dudley. He accepted what life had handed him and dealt with things as they came along. Always working so silently, some outsider would consider him to be a normal, obedient boy, but we knew better. _I_ knew better. He was no different, no matter how hard we attempted to tell ourselves otherwise. 'Maybe we can squash it out of him,' we had told ourselves hopefully. 'Maybe he won't be like his parents.' It was a load of rubbish now that I think back on it. Our efforts should have been saved; they did absolutely no good. Oh, he would come home with those nasty, suspicion-arising letters from teachers, saying he had climbed onto school roofs or turned a teacher's wig blue. And we, Vernon and I, would punish him by depriving him of food and locking him in his cupboard under the stairs. No second thoughts. We had Dudley to look after, to make sure nothing happened to our sweet, adorable, __normal son._

            However, the letter still came at the same exact time _her letter had come, and try as we might to stop him from reading it, more arrived insistently every day. But I had sworn, on the foundation of my life with Vernon, that I would not praise him as my parents had indulged to her. He was still the evil little boy who deserved to be locked in a dingy, dark cupboard. The knowledge of his powers had not changed that in the slightest. And although we decided to put him in Dudley's second room, I (and probably Vernon too) wanted very much too keep him hidden in the framework of the staircase forevermore, as long as he stayed in our house. But the looming threat of __her kind was hovering ominously over both of our heads and we knew it was best. We did not need to be connected with all the weird things those people do. We did not, obviously, wish to be changed into little spiders that would skittle around the floors until they smashed us beneath their odd shoes. _

            That giant man followed us, despite our desperate attempts to keep him isolated from his rightful world. Banged open the shack's door and everything! He walked in as if he owned the place, started an unnatural fire in the hearth, and addressed Harry as if our say did not matter at all. There he was, blithering in that awful grunt of his, explaining about, well, you-know-whats, destroying everything that we had told him throughout his ten years with us. He even had the nerve to yell at us! As if we would tell the boy of his abnormal abilities. I would've rather drank bacon grease every morning for a year. Then, as Vernon insulted that terrible old coot, he had a go at Dudley, poor, innocent, little Dudley. My poor baby has been scarred, both physically and psychologically by that pig's tail that sprouted from his backside. We, to say the least, got out of there real quick, and they left in the morning. He came home, happier than I had ever seen him. 

            And he then went to school. For four years we had to live in the constant fear that someone would find out about him. There were many close calls: that flying car, the floating pudding, Marge bobbing on the ceiling. But, no, he was great, he could not get punished. Except at our house and then we'd look like bad people to those whom he talked to. I noticed the look on that man's face as he stared at us disbelievingly after he had blown apart half of our wall. So we didn't say goodbye; it was no reason for an admonishment. And Dudley's tongue! What is wrong with these people? Do they find it funny to taunt us, to shove it in our faces that they can do things that we can't? They're horrible people, the lot of them. I quite agree with Vernon; they should be obliterated from this planet indefinitely. 

            He came back to our house after school for the fourth time, and I must say that I expected him to be the same sullen person he had been the previous summer. He had changed, though. All I had to do was look in his eyes (her eyes) to tell. They had a lurking gleam of anger, always staying hidden in the sparkling green gaze. He was snappish, and would not respect what we said. The only good thing was that he stayed out of our way, but when he arrived, he would immediately start a row. His presence sparked tension instantly, and when you match it with Vernon's temper, we were lucky that the police weren't called to break up a household disturbance. He would insult us constantly, attempt to watch the news, and then get angry very quickly when we questioned his intentions. And the Dementors! I guess I should be thankful that Dudley's soul is still intact, but they had come to Potter in the first place; it was entirely his fault. Then that nasty Dumbledore had sent me a screaming letter and forced me to go against my husband in a topic I agreed with Vernon with in the first place. Potter was endangering my family with his reckless behavior. He tarnished our reputation with the neighbors with his appearance, with the necessary lie that he went to St. Brutus's for school. The children avoided him, and I would get nasty looks in the street when I exited the house. He has no regard for other people, the self-absorbed brat. I should've chucked him out of the house straightaway, but guilt had seized me painfully the time being. Now I cannot do anything, as I am being threatened by multiple persons.             

            The only thing I can continue to do is hate my nephew with a silent passion and wait anxiously for the time that he will leave and never return to be a burden on my family again. That time, however, is not coming fast enough.

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End

A/N: Okay then…   


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